Wednesday, November 15, 2017

THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV (MGM, 1958) Warner Archive

Renegade film
maker, Richard Brooks could be an exacerbating individual; relentlessly
unsympathetic to his actors and crew, tyrannical to a fault and grotesquely
opinionated, though always – arguably – with a purpose. Yet, no one can deny he
was one hell of a great director, as he proved yet again with The Brothers Karamazov(1958); an
exuberant adaptation of Fyodor Dostoevsky's epic novel of familial greed.
Brooks’ penchant for telling stories with a strong social commentary excels
herein; capturing the stifled tenacity brewing between three insidiously
enterprising male heirs to a crumbling dynasty. It took Dostoevsky two years to
write The Brothers Karamazov, a
fervent philosophical debate about, and meditation on God, man's perceptions of
his own free will, and, the godless way he chooses to conduct himself to suit
his own (im)morality. Dostoevsky always intended the book to be part of a
masterwork entitled The Life of a Great
Sinner. But he died of complications due to epilepsy a scant four months
after the first book was published. For the film, director Brooks assumes a
rather daunting task: to transpose the author’s dense prose into a
living/breathing art of tangible pleasures and intrigues. Overall, Brooks
succeeds. Possibly, he could internally relate to the demons being exorcised in
the novel. Thus, Brooks, who also wrote the screenplay, achieves a minor coup:
to make Dostoevsky’s cerebral pontificating concrete without weighing down the
audience in platitudes and epiphanies.

Dostoevsky, who
in death came to be regarded by such luminaries as Albert Einstein and
Friedrich Nietzsche as “the greatest
religious writer” from Russia’s golden literary age, was equally praised
for his exquisite analytical style as for his penchant in drawing clarity,
emotion and psychological complexities from both the frailty and madness of the
human condition. No other writer of his ilk bears a more striking contrast to
the then ensconced Victorian novel, with its coy highborn damsels and
well-arranged routines. Dostoevsky’s novels present life not as it ought to be,
as a comedy of errors with a few serious bits scattered about, but rather as an
earthly unkempt cesspool of oddities that bear an arresting resemblance to life
as it is, or rather, was for a good many reading his prose. In life, Dostoevsky was such a mass of
contradictions. Although several of his works exhibit an undeniable
anti-Semitic slant, there is equal evidence to suggest he was not entirely
comfortable with these pan-Slavic criticisms of the Jewish race. While he
dabbled in, and studied many religions, he remained a devout Orthodox
Christian, even going so far as to suggest that if definitive proof could be
established for truth laying outside of Christ he would much prefer to remain
with Christ instead of truth. Despite being considered progressive in his
political views, Dostoevsky rejected the notion of a Russian Republic in favor
of his own highly idealized and Christianized utopia. These views were later to
result in his temporary exile to Siberia.
His private life was as messy, if not more so; Dostoevsky, frequently
dallying in extramarital affairs with mistresses he invariably found
exacerbating, egotistical and dull.

If all this
history seems unlikely fodder for a film review, it nevertheless helps to
contextualize the unvarnished reflections represented in the novel The Brothers Karamazov (amply
referenced in the movie) as a passionate philosophical treatise charting the
moral ambiguities and spiritual dysfunction of this trio of ill-gotten
sons; the vindictive offspring of a whore-mongering patriarch. Miraculously,
Brooks’ film retains all of this flavorful sin, plus a good deal of the
author’s ethical debates, cleverly rewritten as ‘beliefs’ bandied back and
forth by this feuding fraternity. What Brooks cannot illustrate outright – due
to censorship – he expressly relies upon cinematographer extraordinaire, John
Alton to intimate with lurid hues and deep shadows. Alton gets a fair amount of
mileage from creating such painterly impressionistic viewpoints of vulgar,
unchecked desire, of pugnaciously differing mindsets, and implied bawdy comicalness.
The incongruity of pitting sex against salvation buoys Brooks’ screenplay;
itself, a masterful reconstitution of Dostoevsky’s prose.

Working from an
adaptation by Julius J. and Philip G. Epstein, Brooks evokes the crippling
turmoil of the Karamazov clan with an unrelenting and clear-eyed flair for the
brutalities inflicted by Lee J. Cobb’s libidinous old wag, mocking, tempting
and exasperating his spawns into fitful ferocity, desolation and
dispiritedness. Yul Brynner emerges as the ‘star’ of this surprisingly sturdy
ensemble piece; cast as the eldest and most striking, yet pitiless Dmitri who
shares in his father, Fyodor’s desire to possess the curiously cat-like
innocence of Grushenka (a buxom Maria Schell). There is a good deal to be said
in praise of genuine ‘star power’ as
Brynner’s megawatt inklings of it flourish and retain a classical sense of
heroism despite his character’s lack of morality working against it. The middle
heir, Ivan (Richard Basehart) is both glacially intellectual yet austerely
jealous of his father’s untrammeled and seemingly unquenchable avarice. The youngest, Alexey (William Shatner) has
retreated to the church, presumably to escape a similar fate. This familial
dynasty is also rocked from without by Smerdyakov (Albert Salmi) – a piggish,
easily swayed and malignant bastard.

Brooks’
screenplay telescopes Dostoevsky’s vast and tangled fiction into an equally as
compelling dissertation and homily on the root of all evil – money…not lust. To be sure, both play a part in this
substantially mounted production. Partly
to appease the censors, but moreover to rein in the already two and a half hour
movie from becoming a David Lean knockoff of the super-epic, Brooks
reconstitutes the novel’s sensuality – herein exhibited via a lot of pawing and
open-mouthed kisses to the strains of pseudo-erotic gypsy music (an exquisite
score by Bronislau Kaper) – tempering overt sinfulness with an even more
edifying condemnation of wealth – or rather, the evil that men may do to regain
it once it has been lost. We can almost
forgive Brooks his half-ass ‘happy
ending’ that does much to sterilize the tension between these colliding
consciences, calculatingly concocted and perfectly at odds elsewhere, because
everything leading up to this anti-climactic dénouement is so impressively
dynamic, teeming with the bare-bosom sprigs of undulating gluttony, mistrust
and monstrous-ness; the puss, barely concealed beneath scabs as psychologically
burrowing as to hemorrhage the patience, though hardly its lionized venom from
this anti-heroic brood.

The film begins
in earnest with monk Alexi Karamazov (William Shatner) in search of his
lecherous father Fyodor Pavlovich (Lee J. Cobb) to reclaim a payment owed his
eldest brother, Lieutenant Dmitri Karamazov (Yul Brynner). Alexi finds Fyodor
at home, indulging in a violent orgy with tavern owner, Agrafena Alexandrovna
Svetlova Grushenka (Maria Schell). Although the Karamazov patriarch is
entertaining thoughts of marriage, the fiery Grushenka does not share in them.
Dmitri has offered to pay a debt to save the reputation of a prominent local
family in Ryevsk for the elegant Katya (Claire Bloom) with the understanding
she will become his mistress as remuneration. Very reluctantly Katya agrees to
these terms. But Dmitri has a change of heart. Katya is an honorable woman.
Thus, instead of seduction, he offers her the money as a gift she gratefully
accepts. Moments later, Dmitri is arrested by the army police for a brawl he
had earlier in the evening. A few months later, Katya visits Dmitri in prison
with overwhelming news. Her grandmother has died and left the entirety of the
estate to her, primarily because the old woman never learned of the disgraceful
debt their family owed. In the interim Katya has fallen hopelessly in love with
Dmitri and, upon learning his fate, pledges herself wholeheartedly in marriage
to him. However, Dmitri recognizes a fundamental flaw in his character. He is
his father's son - prone to stifling debaucheries that would surely make the
virtuous Katya a most unhappy wife.

Nevertheless, upon
his release from prison Katya pursues Dmitri. The Karamazov's middle son,
philosopher Ivan (Richard Basehart) is instantly smitten with her. But his
influence at home is most strongly felt by their father's bastard son, Pavel
Smerdjakov (Albert Salmi) who has taken Ivan’s published works to heart. Ivan
does not believe in God or the law. For him, neither exists. Lawlessness is a
myth perpetrated by the state to control its populace. Presiding over this
motley brood is the ever-devoted house servant, Grigori (Edgar Stehli) who has
been as a second father to these boys. He has watched powerless as their own
father's lifestyle infected the entire family's welfare; financial, moral and
spiritual. Dmitri returns home and demands his father pay out the rest of their
mother's inheritance owed him. He is refused and later rebuked as Fyodor enters
into an unholy alliance with Grushenka to buy up Dmitri's debts and secretly
have him detained for not being able to repay them. Grushenka sends Captain
Snegiryov (David Opatoshu) to make the arrest. Instead, Dmitri confronts the
aged officer with a challenge. Snegiryov begs for his life in front of his
young son, Ilyusha (Miko Oscard) who bitterly declares he will never forgive
Dmitri for his father's humiliation. Dmitri learns of the plot against him from
Snegiryov and confronts Grushenka at a skating party. His initial plan is to
use money given to him by Katya to pay off his debts. Instead, Dmitri falls
under Grushenka's spell and throws a wild party in her honor at the tavern.
Grushenka affectingly falls in love with Dmitri, but this hardens Katya’s
heart.

Hence, when
Dmitri is accused of murdering his own father, Katya seizes the opportunity to
cast her word against him by exposing the debt of monies owed her. Prompted by
Alexi, Ivan confronts Smerdjakov who gleefully confesses to murdering the elder
Karamazov by striking him with a poker from the fireplace. Smerdjakov declares
it was Ivan's writing and opinions that informed and fueled his vengeance.
Assuming responsibility, Ivan and his half-brother are caught in a violent
struggle. Alas, Ivan cannot bring himself to murder his father's killer.
Instead he orders Smerdjakov to confess his crime, not simply because it is a
crime, but in order to save Dmitri from spending the rest of his life in
prison. Smerdjakov's faith in the faithless Ivan is shattered. Ivan returns
several hours later with Grushenka and policemen to arrest Smerdjakov, only to
discover he has hanged himself rather than face prosecution. The next day, Ivan
endeavors to testify in court on his brother’s behalf as to what Smerdjakov
told him. But the judges are unconvinced and unsympathetic. They find Dmitri
guilty of murder. As the prisoner is led in chain onto a train bound for the
work camp, Ivan observes Dmitri is not among them. Katya demands to know what
has happened to him. But Ivan is silent, joining Alexi, Dmitri and Grushenka in
a carriage bound for the border. At the last possible moment, Dmitri commands
they pause a moment at Capt. Snegiryov's home where Ilyusha lies very ill.
Dmitri begs Snegiryov to pardon his challenge, thereby restoring Ilyusha's
faith in, and love for, his father - emotions Dmitri always lacked towards his
own. The carriage pulls away and into the night, presumably with Dmitri and
Grushenka bound for a better life together abroad.

The Brothers Karamazovis a superior
movie adaptation of an extremely complex literary chef-d'oeuvre. Clearly,
Richard Brooks has done his homework. The script is literate without being a
literal translation of the novel. Necessary excisions to accommodate time
constraints have been made. But these never blunt the impact of the novel's
philosophical debates. Brooks’ screenplay captures the essence of the novel
without being essentially bound by its weighty narrative. And then there is the
cast to consider; a magnificent roster with not a false performance among them.
Yul Brynner is a powerful and commanding presence, as is Lee J. Cobb. Richard
Basehart - an actor sadly underrated in his time, and all but expunged from our
own - is exceptional as the godless cynic, suffering a conversion in the final
reel. Albert Salmi is absolutely bone-chilling as the prodigal with secretive
bloodthirsty lures to blackmail and cleanse himself of his illegitimacy. Even
William Shatner's pious monk is delivered with reverence. Both Maria Schell and
Claire Bloom give noteworthy performances as opposing depictions of womanhood –
the proverbial virgin and the whore – each, inexplicably flawed in their
romantic tastes and drawn to even more insidiously troubled men.

The Brothers Karamazov also benefits
from the many gifted craftsmen working behind the camera. Bronislau Kaper's
score manages to capture the raw tension, fiery obsession and carnal aliveness
of the piece. John Alton's impressionist cinematography is the perfect
complement here, creating a sort of color-coded claustrophobia that draws the
viewer into the darkening malaise that has already enveloped the Karamazov
clan. Walter Plunkett's costumes are understated. The clothes do not speak for
the characters, yet add to their own social commentary and reflections on the
Imperial caste system. In the last analysis, The Brothers Karamazov is an exceptional entertainment not to be
missed. It sustains and nourishes Dostoevsky's high ideals while creating its
own immersive and impressive high drama. There have been other adaptations of
this famed novel – none quite as striking nor as effective as this one.

Frankly, it is
insulting The Brothers Karamazov has
not already found its way to Blu-ray. This is a must have movie to treasure
over and over again! Instead, we have the Warner Archive’s MOD DVD release. In
truth, it’s not all that bad, although the movie would most definitely benefit
from a fully restored and remastered Blu-ray release. MOD DVD is not a great archival source.
Having stated as much, the utmost care has been taken to release The Brothers Karamazovin standard def.
Color fidelity is marginally weaker than anticipated. The movie was
photographed on single strip Eastman stock and, in spots, shows subtler signs
of vinegar syndrome. Flesh tones are pasty pink or ruddy orange and reds are
more orange than blood red. Contrast levels are very good, however. The image
is occasionally ‘thick’ with a loss of fine detail. There are no digital
anomalies to speak of, and age-related artifacts are kept to a bare minimum.
The audio is unimpressive in mono but adequate. The only extra is a theatrical
trailer. Bottom line: The Brothers
Karamazov is a cinematic masterpiece Dostoevsky would be proud of. It may
not represent the novel’s more literal intent, but it manages to evoke the
author’s sentiments with a palpable aggression and conviction most will find
very satisfying indeed. Very highly recommended! But again, a Blu-ray for 2018…pretty
please!

About Me

Nick Zegarac is a freelance writer/editor and graphics artist. He holds a Masters in Communications and an Honors B.A in Creative Lit from the University of Windsor.
He is currently a freelance writer and has been a contributing editor for Black Moss Press and is a featured contributor to online's The Subtle Tea. He's also has had two screenplays under consideration in Hollywood.
Last year he finished his first novel and is currently searching for an agent to represent him.
Contact Nick via email at movieman@sympatico.ca